


Interface

by thedevilchicken



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Manipulative Sheev Palpatine, Memory Related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 14:19:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19465756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: Palpatine has a job for Obi-Wan; that job is General Grievous. Obi-Wan, for his part, has regrets.





	Interface

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shanlyrical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanlyrical/gifts).



Obi-Wan had no interest in doing this. 

He told the council no once they'd briefed him on the situation; he said no, in no uncertain terms. _No_. The Jedi don't do that kind of thing, he said. _He_ didn't do that kind of thing, more specifically, and they should have known that. But the council told him it was an order, one that they were extremely reluctant to give but one that was ultimately necessary. He asked why him, though he knew it sounded petulant, and they gave him a very reasonable-sounding explanation that also sounded very like the chancellor, but he knows what it really meant was _because we know you'll follow orders_. He wishes he could resent that, but he knows they were right. Perhaps he should resent it because of that. Mostly, he resents himself. 

"What did you do?" Grievous asks. 

He's seated at a large metal table in a room that Obi-Wan had never seen before last week. Nothing there was made for someone with a body like General Grievous - Obi-Wan understands that some of the Separatist droids might weigh as much as he does, but they don't really sit. Nor does Grievous, usually, because he usually has no need to, but when Obi-Wan entered the room nine days ago, he was sitting. His whole frame was held in place, forearms to the table, legs and torso to the chair, with some kind of unseen electromagnetic system. The Jedi might hold with traditions over technology, but that doesn't mean they don't use it when required.

"What did you _do_?" Grievous asks, and he brings his hands down hard on the table where he's no longer bound. It's already bent in places, as thick as it is, because the very first thing that Obi-Wan did when he entered that room for the first time - after understanding what exactly he was looking at - was unlock him. Perhaps Grievous doesn't need to sit down to rest, or walk around for exercise, or scratch any itches, stretch muscles, breathe deeply, but the situation already hadn't sat well with Obi-Wan. Perhaps what he'd come to do would have been easier had he not subsequently spent several minutes wondering if Grievous intended to vault the table and stove in his head with both metallic hands instead of clutching at the table hard enough to bend the edge into the shape of his long fingers. Easier, yes, but not simpler.

"Tell me!" Grievous says. And he sounds... _wrong_. He sounds different. He sounds wounded, because Obi-Wan supposes that's what he is, in a way, because he wounded him. What he's done to him is what the council ordered him to do, which is what the chancellor ordered them to order him to do, and he suspects they're all quite pleased they didn't have to do it personally. Most of them would likely prefer to forget it's ever happened at all. They're so much better than this, even in the midst of war.

What's left of Grievous's body - of the real him, not the droid parts - is full of Jedi blood. He's received transfusions from several of Obi-Wan's colleagues over the years. There's nothing of his own blood left and while no, he has no access to the Force, that doesn't mean it's not useful that what's left of him is full of midichlorians. And it shouldn't be done - it's _forbidden_ to be done - except that Obi-Wan was given explicit permission. More than that: they gave him an order, and then Palpatine told him to do it personally. 

The first day, he sat down at the table and he closed his eyes while Grievous peered at him, yellowed-eyed and attempting to seem menacing. The Mind Trick wouldn't work on him, and questioning had proved completely futile, but there were other ways to get to the truth in their captive; he reached out through the Force and into Grievous's body. He felt the organic parts of it, his heart, his eyes, his brain, the blood that was still inside him, old and turning thick. He felt the places flesh interfaced with metal, sensory inputs, the liminal space between him and the constructed body that he'd never actually wanted. He could feel it, much as he didn't wish to. And in Grievous's blood there was a way in, he knew it, except when he pushed he couldn't get inside. 

"What are you doing?" Grievous asked. 

Obi-Wan didn't answer. Nor did he answer the following day or the day after that. On the fourth day he didn't have to; he had the med droids perform a quick transfusion, old blood bolstered up with new, and once he reached out, and reached inside him, the effect of that new blood was immediate. 

"This is your blood," Grievous said. 

Obi-Wan didn't answer. He just tested the surface of his thoughts until Grievous's mind began to open to him. And then, with a degree of trepidation and not a small number of misgivings, he slipped inside. 

His task has not been to read Grievous's mind. His task has not been to torture him, not at all; he would like to think that no matter what else they might do from time to time, they are not an order of torturers. But they needed information, and Grievous would not give it willingly. The Mind Trick wouldn't work, and so they had to find a way to tease him into willingness. 

Inside Grievous's head, he could not protect every memory from Obi-Wan's gaze. Inside Grievous's head, there were places that Obi-Wan could walk around quite freely, pausing here and there. Inside Grievous's head, time meant absolutely nothing. And so when he found him, in the desert on Kalee, when he found Qymaen jai Sheelal as the Yam'rii came, he had all the time in the universe. He had the entire Huk war. He had every day for weeks and months. He had every day for _years_. 

In that other place, when the Huk came to Kalee, they fought together, side by side. There were long days and long nights and blood and sand and fever, wounds they stitched and treated, battles they won, and some they lost. What he is not is not what he always was; Obi-Wan has always known that, but knowing and understanding were two very different things. The only thing he can call the same is the colour of his eyes; his hands around his wrists, for instance, weren't the same. When Obi-Wan removed Qymaen's mask and touched his face with his fingertips, he trusted him; that was not the same at all.

Obi-Wan leans back against the door. He tucks his hands into the loose sleeves of his tunic, and he says, "You know what I did. I can't believe you don't remember." He means it to sound hard, but his tone falls very short of that.

Grievous remembers. He knows what Obi-Wan's done, that much is clear. There are two unique sets of memories inside him now, at odds with one another: there is the enemy he knew and there is someone else entirely; there is _General Kenobi_ and there is _Obi-Wan_ ; there is a Jedi whose life he wants to take and the lover whose life he'd give his own to save. That's what he's done and honestly, he wonders if torture might have been more kind. He'll never forgive Palpatine, or the council, or himself. All that he can hope is that it's worth the price he's paid.

"What do you want to know?" Grievous asks, halfway between ire and resignation, and so Obi-Wan asks his questions. He doesn't doubt that the answers he receives are the truth. 

Grievous remembers things that never really happened, but he feels they did. That was what Obi-Wan was sent here for: trust at all costs. That's what he did. 

But, as much as Grievous remembers, so does he. They will always share those things that never happened; he wonders is Palpatine could have ever known what this task would take from him.

He leaves the room. He will never forget. And he is absolutely sure he shouldn't.


End file.
